Depression
by Fairly Odd New Yorker
Summary: AU - A young girl named Anna visits an antique shop run by four peculiar women and learns about some things she's been both knowing and unknowingly harboring for her entire life. Not a ship, Slight OOC, please give it a glance even if it's not your cuppa tea.


**(A/N)-** This is an elaborated dream I had last night. Reason to believe Una Stubbs (Miss Bat) in Sherlock Holmes and the movie 'Don't Be Afraid of the Dark' are the reasons behind this strange dream / fic. Also, possibly thunder.

BE WARNED - this is somewhat OOC and definitely AU. Also, I have a couple OCs in this. If you don't like that, turn back now, but I do wish you'd give it a chance - I don't normally do this, nor am I a fan of OOC, AU, or OCs in general, but I had tons of fun writing this. Also keep in mind I had to get it done rather quick lest I forget most of the dream.

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**- Depression -  
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"Come along, Anna! Quit dragging your feet!"

The girl scowled at her mother as she walked on ahead with her friends, and proceeded to shuffle obnoxiously through the heavy gravel. Her mother took no notice. She figured as much.

The hard rocks almost instantly became lodged in the fancy black dress sandals she'd been forced to wear, and with a heavy sigh she stopped to pull them out, afterwards taking a moment to stare up at the building before her.

"It's an antique shop, nothing more," her mother had assured her earlier that day. But she knew better. She heard talk of there being much, much more to it. Exactly what it was, they never said. But already, she could tell there was indeed so much more. This building was an addition to the rest of it. It was made of wood, made to look like the old styles of the rest of the village to maintain the traditional look, but she could tell it was rather new. And if she peered just beyond the trees that seemed to frame the two-story building, she could see stonework … it was hard to tell in the dark of the night, but she swore she could make out the silhouette of a medieval fortress … a castle.

"Are you going to stay out here all night, love?"

She looked to the source of the unfamiliar but friendly voice. It was a slightly husky, balding caretaker in overalls.

She looked for her mother and her party, but they'd already gone into the building.

She figured as much.

Embarrassed, she jogged into the building in the gods-awful robin's egg blue sundress she'd been forced to wear.

Immediately upon entering the threshold, she came upon a narrow candlelit stairwell. Intrigued, she stepped forward, but was stopped by a tan arm blocking her path.

"Hold on," the voice reprimanded, but in a nice sort of way. She met the green eyes of a middle-aged blonde with short-cropped hair. Anna must've looked scared, for her face softened almost instantly.

"Sorry if I scared you." She said, handing her a pamphlet.

"I'm never scared." Anna mumbled under her breath as she reluctantly took it.

"This is the floorplan," the woman explained, "You're not to venture anywhere but. Employees only means employees only, is that understood?"

"I'm fourteen, not four."

"It's regulation that I tell you," she answered back, rolling her eyes as she muttered under her breath, "_Miss Hardbroom_ …"

Anna's eyebrows furrowed slightly, but she said nothing, looking back up the stairs. A dark shadow caught her eye, and the slightest growl met her ears. Wide-eyed, she looked to the blonde to see if she heard it, but she already started busying herself with a sports magazine.

With a sigh, she rushed up the stairs and through the dark shadow that attempted to block her path and it disappeared.

Shelf, after shelf, after shelf of supposed antiques. She liked old things, but this was a donation shop and so the villagers seemed to give them stuff they thought were antiques but they were really porcelain interpretations of various animals, manufactured so unattractively that they out to be tossed, not sold, or perhaps given always for free to the poor soul who saw any value in such things.

"Anna!" her mother hissed from across the room, making her jump as she made to touch the tip of a miniature knight-statue's sword.

She flounced over, the floor creaking horribly under her feet. Perhaps it was an old building after all … or perhaps she'd really gotten fatter this summer than she thought she did. A rendezvous with the bathroom scale was certainly needed. If only she'd buck up the courage to face it.

"Can't we go now?" she asked in a whine as her mother looked through a rack of clothes.

"We'd only just got here!" she answered incredulously.

"Those aren't antiques you know," she pointed out to the garments that were quite obviously modern donated clothes. Her mother ignored her.

"Bet the people who wore those died in those clothes. Poor things."

"Oh, _hush_, Anna!" she scolded, "Go and have a look around, we'll find you once we're finished."

Anna scowled deeply and reluctantly left to search the place, suddenly hopeful to find anything of use here … she doubted if she did that her mother would purchase it for her, anyway.

There was another disgusting series of shelves piled almost dangerously with breakables and iron-made things. She decided to skip it all, and went deeper into the house until she came upon a hall of mirrors.

Ugh. Her worst enemy of all, next to the scale.

But the room on the other side looked vaguely interesting, so she proceeded.

She couldn't help but notice her reflection, and by force of habit she stuck her tongue out at herself, which only made her look uglier. Her hair, which her mother had insisted be let down, was now a nimbus of red around her face, frizzy and poofy and reminiscent of a circus clown's wig. The dress she wore put her upper arms on display, and she hated those more than her stomach even. At least her stomach she could suck in and she did always, to the point where she felt she was leading a lie. It was such a habit to her, it hurt to let her stomach set in the usual way.

And then there was her slight slouch. She pulled herself up, determined to stand up straight, and giggled lightly when she appeared to look like she'd had a rod jammed up her back, like a scarecrow on a post.

She dragged her headband off her head and used it as a scrunchie, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. Head on, it gave the appearance that she didn't have much hair at all, but she liked her head shape and the thought of her hair being much shorter, so it counted for something. She thought enviously of the blonde downstairs.

A slight sniffle met her ears, and she snapped to attention, her green eyes leading her directly to the source. In the mirror, she could see her – a small old frail lady with wispy grey hair pulled into a bun, crying silently in the arms of a tall woman all clad in black, her too wearing her hair in a bun although she appeared younger. The black-clad woman appeared almost emotionless as she embraced the smaller woman, allowing her to shed her tears into the covered shoulder of her black dress.

She turned to get a better look, the two were in a room through one of the mirrors that seemed to have doubled as a door … but as soon as she took a step closer, the door was shut in her face, as if by magic.

"Can I help you?" a woman snapped, and she looked over to see a short plump woman with grey hair down to her chin and neatly cropped across, horn-rimmed spectacles sat atop her head. She was also dressed in black. She had a kind face but it wasn't showing right now – she looked rather furious, actually.

"No." Anna replied simply, with a second glance at the closed mirror before continuing on her way.

"Where are your parents?" she asked, "Children aren't supposed-"

"I'm not a child," Anna replied, offended, "I'm fourteen. And my mother's not far off."

She left before she could be interrogated further, and came to the room at the end of the hall. It was filled floor to ceiling with all sorts of ancient-looking books. She suppressed a smile, and swept along the shelves, running her fingers along the spines as she went.

She stopped involuntarily at a black book, and upon reading the title she looked about her.

"Very funny." She scowled.

Necromancy, it read simply. She knew what that was, although she'd never attempted it. A soft growl emanated through the walls around her, and reluctantly she pulled the book out and opened it, pretending to read it.

"Says here that ghosts who haunt those who aren't members of the family they had in life should just bugger off."

She snapped the book shut, earning her a loud and annoyed growl.

"Oh come off it, you don't scare me anymore," she growled back, "I'm a teenager now."

Some of the books flew off the shelf, and she tirelessly grabbed them up.

"Exercise. Thank you. I could stand to lose a few stone."

"Who are you talking to, dear?"

She whipped around at the soft gentle voice. It was the old woman whom she'd seen crying earlier. Her eyes were tinged with red under her round spectacles, but she wore a smile like it never happened and she appeared oddly intrigued by the girl's presence.

"Phone." Anna awkwardly excused, feeling rather foolish as her phone was in her purse in the car – she hadn't any pockets.

She swept past her, hurrying along the corridor of mirrors, determined not to meet her own eyes again lest she see the specter following alongside her.

Something fell and broke with a loud smash, and her mother's voice followed.

"Anna! Your wretched cat!"

She rushed towards the racket, and spied her tuxedo cat perched on the ledge of a high window, balancing on a plank of uneven wood.

They'd brought him to a vet earlier that day, and he'd been in the car while they did some shopping – she'd stayed with him, windows open, but her mother insisted upon coming inside the antique shop, so she'd let him out of his carrier and opened the car windows a crack. Apparently she'd opened way too much of a crack.

"Loki!" Anna scolded, and the cat looked down to her with a mew. He leapt down to a lower shelf lined with teapots, and she cringed in pain as she saw another fell to its eminent demise.

It was caught single-handedly by the tall woman in black, who turned to her with an intense glare.

"Control your animal at _once_!" she shouted.

"How am I supposed to do that?" she muttered under her breath as she strode forward, looking up at her feline, who stared back down at her.

"Loki, _come_," she called, patting her shoulder. She had been trying to train him to leap up onto her when she made this motion, but he only seemed to do it whenever he needed to get closer to the floor. Sometimes …

Luckily, he obeyed, and he leaped down onto her shoulder, claws scratching her slightly. She clutched him close, and turned around to leave. It was the march of shame- every worker in the store was there, even the blonde receptionist! Her mother was busy apologizing to one of them, the one with the horn-rimmed spectacles.

Embarrassed by her felines antics, she scolded him quietly and made to leave. She could feel the tall woman's gaze upon her, and she glanced over before heading down the steps. The woman quickly looked away from her, whispering something into the blonde's ear. The blonde then looked wide-eyed, and looked at Anna.

Anna hid behind her cat, and headed back downstairs, deciding that she should just stay in the car until her mother saw fit to leave.

At least, she was going to stay in the car.

After putting Loki in his crate, she spotted a small Halloween display alongside the building. It wasn't uncommon to see these around town at any time of the year, for this town had a history of witch stories as well as ghosts … she looked over her shoulder, but she couldn't feel her phantom there.

Ordering Loki to stay and be quiet, she exited the car and headed over, figuring she could busy herself … there was a small graveyard penned in by an old wrought iron fence. All of the tombstones appeared very old and the names on them were rather difficult to read. She did manage to make out one word.

_Cackle_.

Shaking her head at such a silly name, she headed towards the display, which wasn't at all as corny as the rest were around town. No plastic spiders or bats and cotton cobwebs – there were actual cobwebs and actual spiders. No bats, sadly. A few pumpkins made out of plaster or something sat at the base of the willow tree that sheltered it all, but that was about as commercial as it got.

She spied a small altar around the other side of it … no, two altars. Each was littered with melted candles, weather-aged photographs, pocket change, various bird feathers and of course, dead flowers. A couple of them were freshly placed – they were roses and daises, and they were placed around a small photograph of a regal-looking black cat.

She got down on her knees and picked it up to get a closer look. It looked almost like her other cat, a girl, who had died a couple of years back at a rather young age due to cancer. Anna never forgave herself. She'd been away for most of her sickness … she only had a week with her before she was gone.

"You, girl!" someone shouted, and she jumped.

The black-clad woman approached her, looking furious, "Put that back immediately – don't you know it's wrong to touch anything on an altar?"

"Sorry," she quickly put the photo back where she found it, scrambling to her feet.

Arms folded, the woman's scowl turned into that of concern as she looked at something over her shoulder.

Anna felt a breeze, and she whipped around, but it wasn't there. She turned back to the woman, who appeared somewhat horrified.

"You can see him too?" Anna whispered, and his familiar growl met her ears, causing the woman to jump slightly.

The woman unfolded her arms and gestured to Anna, "Come here." She whispered shakily.

Anna obeyed without question, and the woman wrapped an arm around her shoulders while she pointed with her forefinger and pinky only, towards the place where Anna had been standing. There was a burst of red light, and all was still.

"What was that?" Anna practically shrieked, and the woman clutched her closer.

"A spell. It should ward him off … for now."

"A spell?" Anna asked incredulously, "You mean magic?"

She looked up at the woman, who seemed suddenly paler somehow. She stepped away from Anna, observing her from a moment.

"What's your name?"

"Anna Hudson."

"I'm Miss Hardbroom," she introduced herself, ignoring the confused look at the sound of her peculiar name, "Anna … how long have you been seeing this … apparition?"

"For as long as I can remember," she answered truthfully, and the woman appeared pitiful, "But he doesn't hurt me. He's just … there. He causes trouble sometimes; I get blamed for it … or Loki causes mischief … I'm sorry about the teacup – I can pay for that."

"It's alright," she brushed off, clearly not concerned with any damages at this point.

"Anna," she said seriously, putting her hands on her shoulders, "This thing … this apparition, he isn't real."

The young girl's brow furrowed, and she stepped away from her, out of her touch, "Of course he's real. You saw him …" she rolled her eyes and made to walk away, "You're just like all the others."

Miss Hardbroom grabbed her arm, "Anna, I'm serious. I had the same thing when I was a child. It's like a ghost but it isn't one, not in the sense people would ordinarily think. It's a manifestation of your thoughts and feelings, and as you grow older, if you don't stop believing in them, the manifestation can grow and possibly become its own being and exist among us rather than in us."

"How do you know all this?"

"As I said, I've lived with it once," she said, reluctantly pulling back her sleeve to show the girl the scars on her arm, "I grew up thinking it was a friend, but it wasn't. It was me, in a sense, and its sole purpose was to inevitably destroy me. Just as I'm sure yours is."

Anna took this all in as she stared at the scars on her arm.

"It's not uncommon for people like us to experience such things."

"Us?" Anna questioned, but the woman simply pulled up her sleeve with a short nod, so she changed the subject.

"That woman you were comforting earlier …"

"Miss Bat," she said, fixing the cuff on her dress, "I believe she has the same thing too, it just never manifested enough for anyone to see."

"What's wrong with her?"

Miss Hardbroom choked back a laugh, "Oh, you could fill a book with what's wrong with that woman. But ordinarily she's perfectly fine. It's just that time of year when she loses it … she's usually on vacation right now to escape it. But then we can never escape what's in our heads … and you've got it literally following you around all the time."

Anna felt the heavy dread she usually felt whenever the spirit would show up, and instinctively she flinched away from the feeling, bumping into the woman.

"How do I rid of him?" she asked hopefully, and Miss Hardbroom smiled, which appeared very rare on an ordinarily expressionless face just as hers.

"That's it. That's the first step. You need to want it to be gone."

She waved her hands, both pinky and pointer protruding, and a cloud of energy seemed to fall around them. Anna hadn't witnessed it the last time so clearly, having been pulled against her at the time, but now she saw it clear as day.

"You're a witch." She gasped.

"Yes." She replied matter-of-factly.

Anna backed away, and Miss Hardbroom sighed loudly, "Oh, come on, a shadow follows you around your entire life and you fear a witch of all things? I am only trying to help you."

"But witches eat children, don't they?" she asked, feeling rather foolish for voicing aloud her assumption.

Miss Hardbroom rolled her eyes and folded her arms, "No, they most certainly do not. You have obviously been reading one too many fairy tale stories."

"If you're trying to help me, why can I still feel him there?" she asked insistently, "Why don't you use your magic to banish him?"

"Why don't you use yours?" she spat right back.

Anna's eyebrows rose, "I'm not a witch."

"Something like this only happens to witches, my dear. I'm assuming you're fourteen years of age?"

"That receptionist must've told you …"

"She didn't tell me anything," she assured, "Girls usually discover their magical abilities at the age of fourteen, which would explain your current situation."

"But I've been seeing him since I was ten."

"And he hasn't been so obvious to others since recently, correct?"

Anna remained silent, but it gave away her answer.

"My colleagues and I run a school for witches on the other side of this building. Classes don't begin until September, but given your current situation, I would be willing to enroll you early. That is, if you truly wish to be rid of it. Non-witch parents usually blow things out of proportion so it would be wise if we simply tell her it's an all-girls school until you see fit to break the news to her."

Anna seemed apprehensive, and the feeling grew on her shoulders …

"You may bring your cat with you as well."

The weight lifted.

The thought of a magical school with witches and stuff made her inwardly shake her head in disbelief. The thought seemed too fantastical to be true, but then again, it wasn't an ordinary occurrence for a girl to be followed by a manifestation of her own thoughts and fears …

She agreed, and shook the woman's hand sheepishly before rushing off to tell her mother, only the school part though, not about the shadow and witches and things of the like … she'd be dragged off to boarding school in a heartbeat.

Miss Hardbroom watched as the girl disappeared into the building, calling out excitedly to her mother as she went.

She knelt down before the altar and lit a few candles with magic, the one meant for her cat … she smiled wistfully at the sight of the daises Miss Bat must've undoubtedly placed … and she turned to the other altar, the small pink candle without a picture to supply it, just a simple daisy. _Daisy_. It might've been her name had she lived to receive one. She magicked up a red rose and placed it beside the daisy, and lit the candle for the little girl her colleague had lost all those years ago.

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**(A/N) -** Please review even though it's a one-shot. :) Tell me what you think!


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